


Starving

by eleuther



Series: Healing [3]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Arguing, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Men Crying, Mild Language, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Self projection, Starvation, i was not in a good headspace, semi resolved argument, starvation used as punishment, this is gonna hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 11:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20339452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleuther/pseuds/eleuther
Summary: It starts with an argument.





	Starving

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm back with more self-projection except this time it's super fucking heavy. This has graphic depictions of starvation being used as a punishment. It's bad. It's sad. It's heavier than anything I've ever written but was very therapeutic to write. Please do not read this if this is something that will trigger you. If anyone reads this and wants me to take it down I will in a heartbeat; just leave a comment or message me on my Tumblr (alldead-ontime). Stay safe yall, don't read what you think will hurt you. 
> 
> Also, this takes place in the Roger Was Abused series that I should really make an actual series of. Maybe I'll do that one day. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not know or claim to know anyone mentioned in this story. I am using the boys as characters and not as people to project my muses onto. A majority of the trauma mentioned I have some sort of personal experience with. Nothing in this story has happened ever with these characters to my knowledge.

**Rockfield Farm 1975**

It had been a small disagreement that escalated into a screaming match in the studio. Brian had wanted to tweak one little thing in one of Roger’s songs; he just felt there could be a little more guitar at the end of the chorus, but Roger felt his song was perfectly fine without the added part. 

This, of course, turned into an argument about who was the most stubborn and who always got their way. They say things they don’t mean and then they forgive each other at the end of the day. That’s how it is, how it’s always been. 

And so, Roger _knows_ Brian didn’t mean what he had said, had seen it in the guilt that shrouded his face as soon as the words left his mouth. But he couldn’t help his reaction, sometimes. It was just how he was raised. 

_“You know, Roger, you should think about letting people get their own opinions in and shutting your fucking mouth for once in your life.”_

Roger shuddered at the memory and curled himself a little tighter into the cupboard. He probably shouldn’t be small enough to fit, but here we are. 

He could hear them running through the house; Freddie’s soothing calls and Brian’s frantic searching. John had actually knocked on the door a few minutes prior and most definitely had heard him jump. He appreciated the attempt at giving him a few more minutes alone. 

His mind wandered back to what his father used to say and do; to the condescending looks and tone used, the slaps that would follow after. Roger knew Brian would never lay a hand on him in that way but a part of his brain took the towering figure and the oh so similar words used and decided that there was a good reason he would. 

The cupboard door ripped open, tearing his mind from going down the dangerous path it was leading in the process. Freddie stood there with a kind smile and coaxing arms, drawing him out of the small room and back into the real world. Brian began apologizing profusely when he saw, seemingly wanting to both pull him close and never touch him again. 

Roger forgave without question, giving an empty smile before heading to the kitchen to make some tea; contrary to popular belief, he didn’t actually burn the water. 

“Rog, are you sure you’re alright?” Brian asked. The guilt in his voice didn’t escape Roger’s notice, and it just made him feel worse for his previous reaction. He should have just sucked it up and finished recording like a big boy. Once their initial concern wears off it’ll turn into anger and then they’ll want nothing to do with him. Or maybe they will, and they’ll make just enough food for the three of them and - 

“You’re shaking, darling.” Freddie’s voice was but a whisper and made him shiver even more. 

“I told you all that I’m fine,” he replied, though his shaking voice likely didn’t convince them. “Now if you lot could please leave me alone and let me drink my tea in peace, that would be lovely.”

Roger made his exit as smoothly as he could with a full cup of tea and shaking hands. He could do this - hide in his room for the night and then in the morning pretend it never happened. Brian could stop feeling guilty and recording would resume as normal. There was no need for all of this added drama. 

Besides - his friends, his best friends, would never do something like keep food from him. He’s an adult. That part of his life is over now, he’s just being dramatic. He doesn’t even know why his brain went there. 

* 

Roger awoke the next morning feeling like a mix of tired and hit by a truck. Not an ideal mix but a shower would hopefully fix that. He saw it was nearing nine, and figured it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he was a little late. Freddie was late all the time, anyway. 

He didn’t think there would be nothing left for breakfast when he emerged, however, and his brain went into overdrive on how to fix this. 

_It wasn’t on purpose, it wasn’t on purpose, it wasn’t on purpose - _

“Morning, love! We weren’t entirely sure what time you’d be up so we didn’t make much, but there are a few granola bars in the cabinet and some water left for tea if you’d like.” Freddie looked so sincere with his offers but Roger wasn’t stupid. His dad had played the same trick on him his entire life. 

_“There’s not much left for breakfast, but there are some small snacks you can grab for on your way to school if you’d like.” _

Always an offer given with a sweet smile that his young brain didn’t realize was a trap to see if he’d break the rules. It wasn’t a punishment given often, not wanting to tip off the school of his shrinking frame and the painful hunger he was surely feeling, but it was given enough for him to learn fairly quickly that if he took the snack he’d go to school with a fresh bruise staining his face. 

“That’s alright, Fred. I’m not very hungry this morning,” Roger coolly replied. He could play this game too. 

Freddie looked both confused and concerned at the blonde’s clipped tone, but let it slide. It wasn’t a completely uncommon occurrence, anyway, to skip breakfast.

*

The studio was quiet when they entered. Brian stood immediately to apologize, but Roger shut him down. 

“Seriously, Bri, don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t mean it. My brain just went from fight to flight. It’s a trained reaction and has nothing to do with any of you, I swear. Just how I was raised.” 

The conversation ended at that and they went straight into recording. They were well aware of the nature of his childhood by now, and it was most definitely not the first time something like this had happened. 

The day continued as usual… kind of. Roger was quieter than normal. Completely silent, actually, and it was throwing all three of them off. Their sound techs looked both confused and concerned when Roger just nodded along to any suggestions and changes tossed his way. The usually vocal drummer didn’t so much as shake his head at the thought of a change to his song. The band began to throw more and more wild suggestions at him, seeing how long it would take to crack, but as the morning progressed no effort was made.

Roger was confused because hadn’t they wanted him to stay quiet? Let them throw their opinions out, change things without his nagging? Instead of the relief he thought he’d see on their faces, there was just more concern and confusion. His anxiety was kicked up another notch when the three shared a look and the plan for lunch was thrown around. 

“What do you want to eat, Rog? Fred said you didn’t eat breakfast so you must be hungry now,” John said. 

What a way to rub it in his face, he thought. Giving options for takeout, especially his favorite was just cruel in his opinion. He didn’t think it would ever come to this with his bandmates, but if this was how they wanted to play then so be it. He could take whatever curveballs they wanted to throw at him. 

“I’m not that hungry, actually. I may be coming down with something.” His voice was hoarse from being silent all morning, and he was sure they could tell he was lying. But that wasn’t always part of the rules, so he hoped they would accept his answer. 

“Are you sure, love? If you’re not feeling well, maybe we should get you some soup or something. Do you want to take the rest of the day off?” Freddie’s concern seemed so real, but he knew it was just an act to get him to say yes to the food that he truly was craving. 

“No, no. I’ll be fine. You all go ahead, I’ll just rest on the couch until you come back, yeah?” 

None of them seemed to buy his act but they let it slide. Hopefully, this would keep them from asking about dinner as well, because he wasn’t sure he could say no to another meal, and he really didn’t want to get punished for eating when he wasn’t supposed to. 

*

There was something so disheartening about his bandmates doing this to him. He thought he’d be free of this once he moved out of his childhood home, yet here he was, terrified of sneaking food into his room when he knew he wasn’t allowed. 

But he was _so hungry_ and there was some part of his brain that was telling him he wasn’t being punished, that he was allowed to eat what he wanted when he wanted. This wasn’t his father’s home and he wasn’t in trouble for doing anything he thought he had done. 

None of the boys had asked if he wanted dinner, and even though that was what he’d wanted, his traumatized brain took it as final confirmation that he wouldn’t be eating in the near future. Really, it was them thinking he wasn’t feeling well enough to keep anything down. 

It was now nearing two in the morning and Roger couldn’t sleep because his stomach hurt so bad. He’d made it downstairs, skipping every squeaky step and loose floorboard, before remembering that all of the cabinets creaked loudly when opened and realizing he wouldn’t be able to open any of them without at least rousing one of them. 

But at this point, he was too hungry to really comprehend what that would mean for him. 

He went to the cabinet that he knew held the granola bars that he wished he’d chanced earlier and slowly opened it, as if that would keep them from creaking. He waited for an entire minute after he’d gotten it open before grabbing one, silently praying that they hadn’t counted them before going to sleep. He’d closed the cabinet just as carefully and was ready to run back to his room when he heard a sleepy, confused voice from behind him. 

“Roger, what on earth are you doing?” 

_He’d been so damn close too_. And now he was likely going to get a longer punishment and probably a beating out of this too and _you should have just waited you fucking idiot. _

“Rog? Roger, it’s alright, calm down. Just breath. You’re alright, it’s just me, it’s just John. You don’t need to get all worked up.” 

He heard more footsteps and then more voices asking what was going on but Roger just kept thinking, _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just please don’t make it hurt too much._

*

His next thoughts felt like they were hours later but it was likely only minutes. 

“You with us now, lovely?” _Freddie. Freddie meant safe and warm and not at home_ \- except it didn’t. Not anymore. 

Roger’s head shot up from its spot on Freddie’s lap. He looked at John and Brian across from him, and then at the singer behind him, and felt every bit of hope drain from him. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” Freddie reached to stroke his hair as he asked, and Roger felt himself flinch violently away from his hand. He immediately lowered it, and the drummer felt guilty for the hurt that flashed across his best friends face. 

“Roger, what is going on?”

“I- it’s nothing. Just got a bit hungry, is all.” He hoped to every God ever believed in that he hadn’t ruined everything with the stunt he pulled that day. The more his brain cleared, the more he realized how _stupid_ he’d been to think his best friends and bandmates would ever be as cruel as his father. 

“Well, that’s because you didn’t eat all day, silly.” 

Roger really didn’t know how to respond to that, but he was doing everything to avoid Brian’s eyes because he looked like he was close to figuring out exactly what was going on. 

“Yeah.” They sat in silence for a few moments, likely waiting for him to say something but that sure as hell wasn’t happening. If he could get out of this without a deep, emotional conversation he’d call it a pretty successful day. 

“Roger… did you - did you think you weren’t allowed to eat anything?” Brian’s voice sounded more horrified than anything. The sharp gasp from behind him did nothing to help the shaking of his hands. 

“Look it’s - I just -” He sighed. “Maybe… but it was nothing you guys did, or well it wasn’t at first and then I thought maybe you were just playing some mind games with me to get me to say yes to food when I wasn’t really allowed. But I was just not okay today - or yesterday, whatever. I had this stupid mental thing happen and it was like I was back with my dad but it was you guys doing what he would do even though I know you could never, ever be that cruel and -” Roger paused again when he felt Freddie’s tears down his neck. “I’m sorry, really,” he whispered. 

The silence that followed his outburst was deafening and Roger despised himself for him. He should have just kept his stupid mouth shut just like Brian said - 

The thought that one of his best mates was now in place of his father in reference to his abuse made Roger want to die. 

“Roger, it’s alright. We aren’t mad at you, really. But you need to take a deep breath in and then out for me.” John had barely spoken a word all night, terrified he’d trigger another attack like the one he’d had before.

They managed to calm Roger down enough to breathe evenly, but now the drummer seemed to be falling asleep. 

“Rog, you need to at least move to the couch if you want to fall asleep.”

He slowly stands with the help of Freddie and makes his way into the living room. He’s so tired and wants nothing more than to sleep but he knows he needs to explain; if he doesn’t they may jump to conclusions and that could lead to consequences nobody wants. 

“Wait, Freddie, I gotta- I gotta tell you…” Roger was struggling to keep his eyes open. 

“In the morning, darling. You can explain in the morning.” 

Freddie looked inexplicably sad, the tear tracks down his face made the guilt in his chest skyrocket. 

“Just get some sleep, lovely.” 

He nodded off with the lingering thought of how hard life would become if they felt this time was just too much.

*

The smell of bacon and pancakes wafted through the room and roused Roger from his less than peaceful slumber. He’d awoken a number of times in the few hours he managed to get, covered in sweat and tears. He felt more than heard Freddie coaxing him awake, and a rush of gratitude went through Roger. Freddie was nothing if not an amazing friend and he wondered why he would ever worry about him leaving. 

He knew it was illogical to think that Brian or John would leave him either, but that underlying insecurity that this was going to be the final straw, that his list of problems had finally grown too long, was a constant presence. 

Freddie ran a hand through his hair and brought him back to reality. Roger glanced into the kitchen and saw Brian and John at the stove, Brian doing more of the cooking and John more entertaining him. 

“Good morning, darling. How are you feeling?” Freddie asked, voice as gentle as ever. 

Roger thought for a moment; he didn’t really feel anything if he was being honest. But that answer wouldn’t fly well so he just shrugged. 

“Well, Bri and Deacy are cooking some breakfast. Why don’t we go join them, get some food in you to make up for yesterday.” 

Rogers' heart clenched at the thought of what had happened yesterday, and he remembered that they were likely going to want an explanation in order to prevent it from happening again. He felt the guilt begin to creep back up his chest but tried to ignore it for the time being. Freddie helped him stand and began to move into the kitchen, before stopping and pulling him into a tight hug. 

“We love you so much, Roger. No amount of hurt will make that stop.” 

Roger tensed before relaxing into the hold, arms wrapping around the singer's waist and tears springing to his eyes. The weight in his chest lifted just a bit, but it was enough to make him think that this conversation might not be the end. 

Breakfast was ready when they finally made it into the kitchen. Brian and John gave him bright smiles which he did his best to return. Plates were made in silence and for a few minutes, they all just sat there eating. Roger broke the silence.

“My dad, um, he liked to get creative with how he punished me, sometimes. He wouldn’t do it often, in case the school noticed. But when he did he would pretend he wasn't. He’d threaten me with it before I went to bed, and then in the morning would play it off as not enough food was made. He’d tell me to grab a snack for the walk to school, and then hit me when I did because I knew I wasn’t allowed to have any. I stopped chancing it as I got older, and eventually, he stopped. He liked when I’d fight back because it gave him more reason to hit me. When I stopped fighting, he’d move to something else, something that would make me.” 

He paused and glanced at the others. John was staring at his plate, eerily still. Brian sat shaking, face red and twisted into something Roger couldn’t describe. Freddie was looking at him with tears shining in his eyes. Roger looked back at his plate. 

“Anyway,” he continued. “It’s over now.” 

“Is it?” Brian asked. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, how do we know what happened yesterday won’t happen again?” 

“Because I won’t let it. Yesterday was a fluke. Our argument triggered my initial reaction -”

“Exactly, our argument! Rog, we argue all the time! Who’s to say it won’t happen again?” Brian said eyes rimmed red and full of hurt and guilt. He wished he wouldn’t feel guilty. 

“I told you, I won’t let it!” Roger exclaimed. This entire discussion was ridiculous now. He wasn’t going to break at the drop of a freaking glass. He was just fine and eventually, the boys would see it as well. 

“You need help, Roger.” It was the first thing John had said to him all morning. 

“I am not crazy.” 

“No one is saying you are. But you are still hurting, what you went through is obviously still affecting you a lot. We’re just worried, Rog. The fact that you thought we’d -” 

John cut himself off and looked away. Roger felt the guilt creep up again; he’d never seen the bassist so hurt before. 

“I don’t - I don’t want to talk to anyone,” he whispered. He knew there was something wrong with him, but the thought of getting confirmation from a professional scared him more than he was willing to admit. 

“We won’t force you. But I think we should at least look into some options when we get back to London,” Brian said. 

They all looked so sincere in their offer to find him help. Roger knew he should say yes, should at least let them look around. And he knew that they would do their best if he said no. 

“We should have done this years ago,” Freddie whispered. 

“What do you mean, Fred?” 

“We should have gotten you help when you first told us. Or at least had an actual conversation about what had happened. God, none of this would have happened if I’d just said something.” Freddie looked distraught and Roger couldn’t understand why. He remembered the day he told them; it wasn’t a great day, sure but it wasn’t anything drastic. 

“When you and I lived together. You came home one day out of your mind; couldn’t stop babbling about your father and your sister. I thought there’d been an argument but… it was this. And I didn’t know at the time but I knew as soon as you told us the truth what had really happened that day.” 

Freddie was crying again and Roger pulled him into a hug, quietly reassuring him that it was fine, he had nothing to be sorry for. Roger couldn’t even remember the day he was talking about but he remembered that being the second to last time he’d gone home. 

“Let’s go back to bed. We can talk some more later.” 

He felt Freddie nod against his chest and move away to help clear the table.

“Don’t worry about that,” John said. “We’ll clean it and join you all upstairs in a minute.” 

Roger nodded, and he and Freddie moved upstairs. 

Brian and John worked in silence. They knew this wasn’t over; they knew this wasn’t ever going to be over. 

“Are we going to be okay?” 

Brian’s voice was hoarse, throat tight from holding back the tears he didn’t want Roger to see. 

“I hope so.” 

John wasn’t so sure.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave comments and kudos I need validation !!!


End file.
